There Once Was a Trevelyan from Ostwick
by Glashtyn
Summary: You think you know about a person right? Well let me tell you a little about my side of the story and why I did what I had to do. And how closing the Breach was only the beginning. There will be Spoilers.
1. Chapter 1 - Beginning Negligence

When I was eight years old my parents took my sister to the Circle. They allowed me to come along as they didn't know what else to do with me. I was inconsolable and couldn't understand why she had to be sent away. She was my conspirator, my best friend and the only person who understood my almost incessant need to find trouble. You see, I didn't find trouble, I made an effort to make trouble go away when I found it. As a nobleman's child this was seen as a bad thing. Rose never thought of things as so black and white. I was nobility and therefore I could not turn my head when something was wrong! It was my responsibility to look and do to change things. She understood this basic truth about me. But she was the only one.

When it was discovered she could make magic happen, and her dreams led her into the Fade, however she was to be ripped away from me. Mother and Father arranged to take her themselves to the Templars at the Circle. They loved her dearly as the daughter they could always look to when it came to doing the right and proper things. Rose was beautiful and smart, well-spoken and spoke Elfish with the servants as if she had been born an elf herself. (Mind you this was by no means desirable by my Mother's standards, but it came in handy sometimes when Mother needed a mediator). Little Thoriane (That's me and its pronounced Thorn before you go getting ideas and wiggling your lips around) was at best disappointing. These facts made it hard for themselves to imagine letting my sweet sister go, especially as she was only a year away from her debut age and marriage prospects were already flooding in from all directions.

The day came and I was packed up with all the care of the ugly spare luggage you keep in the tower wardrobe so that no one has to see it. They bundled me up and away from the light too early for my tastes, but I was a willing participant if it meant seeing my sister in the last moments she would have as a free person. I couldn't understand why these dreams and why these awesome magical moments that spurted from her unbidden at times was a bad thing. Couldn't she learn to control them here with me? I could keep her safe from bad things. I was sure of it. These things were out of my hands. Mother and Father had each given siblings to the Templar order and believed with their whole hearts that there was a reason that Andraste and the Maker set this path for Rose.

On the third day of our travels I learned another reason that Rose had to go to the Circle as soon as possible. Mages were dangerous.

We had left the inn earlier than we had intended. By night fall we were going to be at the Circle and my sister would forever be lost to me. I held to her as we bounced around the carriage, seeming to lam against every small or medium sized rock that lay between us and our separation. I don't know how I was able to sleep, but I managed. It was what saved me, in the end.

They had surrounded the carriage just out of sight of where Ostwick's Circle mages were housed. A group of nine, a magic number, something I now find amusing as I sit with my own nine and battle to save the known world. The nine apostates were attempting to thwart the will of anyone taking a mage to the Circle. They believed that mage should be free and the consequences of such freedom should be their own choice. My sister was dragged from the carriage, and my head fell from her lap onto the cushion. Drowsy I assumed nothing was going on until I heard shouting and my sister's voice ringing through the night, telling the apostates to stand down and allow her to make the decision that they wanted for themselves.

Thinking back to Rose's way with words I wish she were here now to write my speeches and tell me what no to say. She would be on everyone's good side. Even Solas with his smooth way of letting me know that he disdains anyone that likes the Circles. How I still have than elf on my team is beyond me. I would have thought that he'd have run screaming into the night with my 'cage the mage' attitudes some days. I digress. And besides, there will be plenty of room for this after I explain why I think the way that I do.

I stumbled from the carriage rubbing my sore eyes, trying to force the granules of sleep from them and see what was going on. I could smell something burning, but I couldn't see what it was. There was a ball of fire behind a man, at the end of his stick. A long torch maybe? I'd never seen a staff before that night. Mother and Father never would have allowed an armed mage within our castle walls.

I only had the chance to speak my sister's name, wanting to ask her what was going on before more happened in a moment than I could process. Here are the events in slow motion before I speed it up and tell you how it all felt to eight year old me.

Rose turned and looked at me. Seeing the apostate at the head of the group starting to aim his long torch-stick in my direction, startled, she leapt into action, running at me. I fell under her weight but not before the spell the apostate had called forth hit us both. The majority slammed into my sister's face while the rest hit my face, just around my left eye and along the length of my left leg, the only two spaces that were exposed under my sister's teenage body. Everyone was still after that.

Speed things up a bit and all I knew was that the weight of bear had been slammed into my chest and I was on the ground, writhing in white hot pain as I couldn't breathe and the spell ate away at my skin. I had no idea what was going on when I finally blacked out.

When I awoke a few days later Mother was hovering over my bed, holding my hands and petting my face. She's never done that since, mind you or had before that I can remember. When she realized I was awake she kissed my forehead and left the room, going and getting the mage from the Circle that was the reason I was waking at all. He stroked my forehead and smiled at me. He told me that I was lucky. I had been saved from death. For what purpose it was up to me to find out in time. There were still some scars neither his magic nor his herbs could heal.

That was when I realized I was not in pain and I rapidly sat up, giving myself an instant headache. When that abated for a time I started asking for Rose. No one would answer me or look me in the eyes. Rose. Where was Rose? Finally an old Templar, whose name I have since forgotten, sat with me on the bed and said he would tell me if I agreed to sit still and listen to his whole story.

What else could I do? I sat. And I listened.

He arrived as I writhed there on the ground, the smell of burning flesh in the air as he and his party tore the apostates down one by one. They had been hunting these people, searching for their hide outs and their secret places, but there had been no luck until today.

I started to speak, to ask what this had to do with anything, but he gave me a look that silenced me again as I stretched out my leg, now dotted and marked with veiny scars.

He was sad as he told me that they had been too late. That because he hadn't been there in time my sister had saved my life at the expense of her own. He had witnessed as she ran towards me, arms around my body and the explosion of fire had engulfed her back. But it had been unholy fire, built of blood magic and had not merely burned her, but turned her to something else, hard and stone like. They had buried her ashes deep within the Circle vaults just that morning.

I was distraught. I was again inconsolable at the knowledge that now my sister wasn't merely a human distance from me but she was gone forever. She was with the Maker. And at the hands of the apostates who thought their abilities shouldn't have been controlled. I got up and left him there, his story now done and my freedom again regained, I ran around as much as my battered body allowed me until I came to sit at a pool of water. I was amazed that they allowed the Circle mages these massive almost outdoor gardens. They were beautiful. I leaned over and looked at my reflection. A dotted line rimmed my left eye, all red and scar-y looking, with a single small, angry red line like it was drawn there. Good. No one would look at me the same way, I thought then. I was right but it was for different reasons.

I no longer had the censure that was Rose's good influence. I was smart mouthed and insolent. I would climb the roofs of the buildings and hide from Mother and Father. When my older brother joined the Chantry as was expected I didn't bid him farewell, but lay on a tower roof and watched the proceedings. I found myself in all manner of precarious situations thanks to my audacity and lack of fear. What was left to fear in this world? Death was nothing but a way to Rose. I became known for my night time escapes through our keep, dealing with thieves and bullies.

It wasn't long before I began to venture out of the keep and into the streets and the wilds. This was where my Mother apparently drew her line. She would allow her only surviving daughter to wear pants as the scars that might be shown were horrible. She would allow me to ignore conventions and practice blade skills in the tower rather than managing a household. But going out and seeking apostates hiding in the woods was a job for the Templars, not a young Lady Trevelyan.

I wound up through a mixture of threats and promises as my family emissary to the Conclave. Well, to be fair I was essentially going to be a steward to my brother who was with the Chantry under the name of my family. I was to be the tag-a-long and it was his job to keep me out of trouble.

Needless to say – he failed. That is where my story could really be said to begin.


	2. Chapter 2 - Desperately Seeking Seeker

You never think that it is going to be you until one day you look up and it is. There in in the mirror it is easy to forget the outside world and just see what is going on with you. I find myself doing that a lot now as I tell this story. I've been wondering lately why I am writing this and stalling by looking into that mirror, but I have been compelled to by Divine Victoria herself and thus I must write my story as she did so that I might help her grow her archives. Who thought that I would be so important?

I'll start with the first person I ever met in this mess.

I awoke from my brother's failure to keep me from being a nuisance to her face. Seeker Pentaghast was kind enough to show me out of a dungeon all the while threatening me and accusing me of killing the Most Holy. Yes, it was that simple. At the time I had no idea what she was talking about. It wasn't until later, when my memories were restored that I even had an honest-to-maker clue what she meant. By the time I got those back I understood why Cassie *cough* sorry, the Seeker, was so intent on making me feel my utter guilt the way she tried to. But guilt is a hard thing to make stick to me. I'm not good at keeping things tied up and around me.

Cassandra Pentaghast was Divine Justina's right hand. Her go-to in all events for the right thing to be done. So when this bratty, smart-mouth shows up with a mark on her hand and the Divine is gone what else was she supposed to think?

She didn't like my answer. The last thing I immediately remembered of the situation was that I was sitting on the roof of one of the various buildings to hide from my small retinue of guards. My brother was convinced I would get into trouble, as I obviously did. I could see the courtyard and some nonsense going on in it so I simply went to see what was going on. While I was good at sneaking around and hiding in the usual sense I couldn't ignore her cries for help.

Starting with those cries things are still a little fuzzy even with my memories back. See – when you have your memoires forcefully taken from you there are certain problems when they are forcefully taken back. They are no longer whole memories. But pieces. And like a ripped quilt they will never fit perfectly back together. Meaning, when you try to think about them again they feel more like a dream that occasionally propels you forward or skips a little as you think about it.

I remember Justina crying out for help and of course, like an idiot me running in and challenging the monster that would have her as his puppet. Then we were in the fade, fighting to get back, fighting for everything. Oddly enough I remember clearly the emotions that I felt while in that virtual hell. I was frightened, yes, but I wasn't so scared that I lost my wits entirely at least not until a bunch of hideous, beastly, gross and disgusting spidery creatures started after me. Then there she was, a hand out and waiting for me, helping me back from the fade. She was the Most Holy, sent by Andraste and the Maker himself. While I will never know if it was the spirit of Justina as she died, aiding me to live or if she was Andraste choosing me for this mission I do know that I believe it was something in between.

Don't get me wrong I am not some kook that goes around spouting the Chant of Light or decreeing myself more holy than the next person, but I believe then and there was touched. Cassandra might have helped with that belief a little. Once she had given up on my being of demon spawn, evil, a murderer, she and I were able to sit down and talk a little. She was rarely happy with my decisions at first until we sat down with a couple of pints and talked over it all.

She and I were not so different in our backgrounds. Both born into guided cages with siblings who were killed. Noble families that wanted us to forever be what were never meant to accomplish. So we became what they didn't want and found out that this other life was making us happier. I'm still finding this out, but Cassie is a great help. Kind of like a big sister who will kick your ass every time you give her the wrong sums when she is trying to teach you arithmetic. Just a reminder, don't call her Cassie. She hates that and will hit you. Hard.

Unlike me, however, she is the last in her line. There were no Templars there to save her family from execution. The Pentaghasts are a long proud line of nobility and while she is much closer in line to her throne than I am mine we are both low enough on the family trees to no longer be a threat. Death bonds all people.

Maybe that's why she is so fond of Varric's worst novels. Varric is a wordsmith to be certain but his romances, while a fun romp, are utter trash. The Seeker eats them up, however and keeps them secreted away. Something she doesn't want anyone else to know about her now that she is Divine.

Oh, did I not mention that? She is the new Divine and hating every moment of it. I didn't endorse her out of spite! I promise! It helps I know that she is reading this as soon as the ink dries and I can say it again – I promise! I chose to endorse her because of all the possible candidates I knew that the person who wouldn't be swayed by anyone else's ideas and views it would be her. Cassandra Pentaghast is the most devout and steadfast woman I have ever met. Her faith in me and my position as Herald have had an impact on my own faith. Made it stronger where before it was merely something I did with my family daily.

I haven't explained the Herald thing yet, I realize.

After coming out of the Fade unscathed and with the mark on my hand and the woman helping me out of that darkness, people around Haven, our original camp started calling me the Herald of Andraste. At first I was okay with it and I enjoyed the attention but then I sat down with the idea, talking it out with my now friends and then advisors until I felt that I understood what it meant. It has meant that I was chosen by Andraste to do something amazing in her name. I was chosen to change the world, my world and the world of everyone I came into contact with. When things began to happen that would affect just that outcome I knew. I knew with everything in me that I was the Herald of Andraste, her chosen messenger and warrior.

I hope this is the kind of thing she wanted me to write down. I'm no good at telling stories, but as she likes to read them, especially the sappy, hot and sweaty ones. . . I know better, this will just end with a welt on my shoulder and a headache when Josie finds out that I've been egging her on again. God, I am still the little sister no matter where I go.

Anyway, here you are Divine Victoria, the second for your archives. This time, it seems, I was in a much less dour mood and talking about you is much more fun than talking about my sister. Do you think that someday you'll agree to let me read your account of things and what you think happened Cassie? I promise what I read will only be between you, me, and Varric, who will undoubtedly make a very lovely romance out of the events.


	3. Chapter 3 - Andraste Preserve Us

Let the record of history show that Cassie Pentaghast is a first class bully who threatened to shave the other side of the Herald of Andraste's head if she didn't continue to write down this history she made me start writing. And now her Most Holy is glaring at me for writing it down.

Yes, Divine Victoria, I am writing. Maybe not what you want me to write, as is evident from your face, but I am writing. And I think that I'll write about the only other person that I feel was a real rival for you when I put you up for being the Divine, my dear, to channel Vivienne. Better check and make sure she is still generally against blood magic. Consequently she was another contender for the position but as she put herself forward for the role her offer wasn't taken as seriously as the other two. Other histories may claim differently and they might be correct but this is my history. And histories are written by the victors.

Leliana is nearly as devout as Cassandra. Maybe more so in her own way. She has advised me well about those things I wish I could do away with. She is the person that one goes to when you don't want the word to get out about something or someone needs to be taken care of quietly. She does the dirty work that no one talks about. She keeps her ear to the ground in a way I envy. I may sit on rooftops but I don't have near the resources that Leliana has managed. But if I have Leliana on my side I suppose that I do have her resources in the same way I have her.

Maybe that's why I felt so deeply that Leliana wasn't the one I should promote as Divine. She came to me, asked me if I would. Cassie never did. Cassandra Pentaghast doesn't want it, not actively, but it's why she will do well. She has a great sense of responsibility to the people. And she has something that I know Leliana does not. Cassandra has a sense of Mercy. She is not always forgiving but Leliana would rather remove the problem than give them a chance to change.

Now I know Leliana will have a copy of this almost before I have finished writing it and I don't want her to think that I find this a bad trait. It has served her very well and it is very useful. I want her to be there for Cassie and to help her know who she should trust as much as she has helped me to do the same. On occasion she has done the dirty deed that I could not. She is, in fact, the one who helped me to make my decision about how I should approach being what I have become.

I am the Herald of Andraste. I am the Inquisitor. These things were not a choice for me but something bestowed upon me in a moment of great turbulence and distress. I was there when the world needed me to be. It wasn't something that I could manipulate one way or another. It simply was what happened.

I loved the attention of being called the Herald. I love attention. It's hard not to love something that makes people across the world know who you are. Leliana made me see, though, what the position meant. She helped me find Andraste in the details of what I was actually doing. She was there; she heard the words that echoed around us when I closed the Breach. She heard the Divine calling to me and helping me out of the Fade, a place I never want to return. She and I talked about the long road ahead of me, about how even though it was the Divine and not Andraste the Divine was a messenger of Andraste. I could choose how to interpret the things in my life and I could make the future that I wished to see become a reality.

As much as she is an agent of secrecy she is also a devout follower of Andraste and the Maker. When I've waivered she has often helped me to see where I needed to look so that I could regain my focus. And often this has included the back handed way she has of gaining information that is necessary for our group to continue its path. She, unlike many others understands the need for Templars in their place. There are many who don't understand why I am so adamant about this fact. Templars, Wardens, Seekers – they all have necessary functions in this world. Magic is not a safe thing to simply allow roaming free.

This is why I chose the path that I did. This is why it was important to go the route that I finally fixated on. Magic is dangerous. Corypheus showed us that. It is also useful but in the wrong hands can bring about the coming of the end of the world. This was the case with the monster who tried to become a God and in the process made a mess of the world, destroying many a person and many a thing. I have no words for the anger that causes in me. My sister was willing to go to the circle and be monitored so that she would never consider such actions. Why can't all mages just understand that this sort of unsupervised magic use is just what we are attempting to prevent.

Had Corypheus been a Circle Mage and not a Tevinter piece of . . . *cough* Sorry. For a moment there I forgot that this has the chance of becoming a public record at some future point. Let me state that I have nothing against the Tevinter Imperium for the most part. My best drinking buddy is from the Tevinter Imperium. But I don't believe that neither their unabashed use of magic nor their denial of Andraste's proper place serves the world in any which way but ill. And may I just add that at this point in time I have met very few from Tevinter that are worth getting to know. Just putting that little fact out there in my own words. And now that it's all over there is no need to candy coat what I actually think. Except . . . for the whole could be in public records thing. Again.

But then even Tevinter trains their mages to understand their own limitations and to train into themselves the knowledge and control they need to properly wield their abilities. Apostates in our neck of the woods cannot claim the same. Often resulting in problems and even deaths like those I have experienced. But even when in the Circle, mages are dangerous. Look what happened in Kirkwall for Andraste's sake. When attacked the mages always resorted to blood magic. Even the First Enchanter. But then there was Hawke. She managed to resist the urge and keep both mages and Cullen safe through the battles. I cannot thank her enough for that. It is weird to owe a mage anything. But I owe her for getting him out.

That's a note for another session of writing under the influence of a mixture of pressure and physical threats of harm from THE DIVINE, VICTORIA. Who is now grabbing my head and trying to make good on her threat to shave my head completely. I hope Cullen likes balding women in his bed.

Yes, Cassandra, I just wrote that into public records just for you! And also The Divine Victoria, Her Most Holy enjoys reading the very racy and badly written novels of the great Varric Tethras "Swords-"

If you want me to stop then bribe me. That is the best way to keep me writing and not have me complain about it and make excuses or show up after a night of drinking with Bull and his men. Now there is a party.


End file.
